


Sutures

by Fortheloveofjonsnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), MASH (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Based on MASH but unfortunately I'm not as funny, Castle Black is a MASH unit, F/M, Jon Snow knows MANY things, Jon is about 10 years older than Sansa, Korean War-AU, Period-Typical Sexism, Set in Westeros Not Korea, The Wall is a Mountian Range
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fortheloveofjonsnow/pseuds/Fortheloveofjonsnow
Summary: In a 1950s Westeros, young surgeon, Jon Snow is drafted out of residency and sent to a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital (MASH) unit near the front lines during the Second Wildling War, a war aggressively perpetuated by the corrupt government in King's Landing. Jon must save lives of soldiers, while battling his own demons and surviving the harsh living conditions of the North.Sansa Stark is a brilliant young nurse who has aspirations of being a doctor. When she is denied entrance to a prestigious medical school due to being a woman, Sansa, against her parents wishes, joins the army and volunteers to go to the worst post in the whole war, the Castle Black MASH unit, to prove herself.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 23
Kudos: 110





	1. Castle Black, M*A*S*H

**Author's Note:**

> So I was watching M*A*S*H on HULU, which is perhaps my favorite comedy tv show, and somehow this demanded to be written. Unfortunately, I'm not as good at writing comedy, so it will probably be more serious in tone. I have not abandoned my other story, Sansa of Winterfell, but I could not seem to get anything written on it this weekend until I wrote this. If this story is intriguing to anyone, I may continue it once I finish my other story, so if you like it please let me know. 
> 
> I know its a strange concept, especially if you have never seen M*A*S*H and so if you have questions needing clarifying, I can try to answer them as well. 
> 
> Please note I am not a medical professional, so I hope you can bear with me on any errors of fact in that regard, as I am just having some fun haha.

The wind blowing through the half-frozen tent was even colder than the last gust if that were even possible. Winter was coming… as the Northmen were prone to say. Captain Jon Snow, M.D. rubbed his hands together in front of the woodboring stove in the center of his shared tent. Winter had long been at their mobile army surgical hospital, or M.A.S.H. unit, unaffectionately called Castle Black. Jon was certain that winter had not left since the first Wildling War which had ended nigh on twelve years ago. Jon had seen that war too… except he had been a soldier then, and not a doctor. He was not sure when all the killing would end… if it ever would.

“If the government in King’s Landing spent as much on blankets and fuel as they did on ammunition, we could defrost the whole North!” exclaimed Dr. Samwell Tarly, affectionately known by his friends as Sam, as he blustered into the tent from the cold.

“But Sam, those munitions are for your protection,” Jon gave a sarcastic laugh. He had no love for the capital or their perpetuation of this conflict with the Free Folk who lived North of this perilous mountain range, known in Westeros as the Wall.

“If they wanted to protect me, they’d send me home,” Sam grumbled, joining Jon beside the stove.

Jon chuckled.

“We’re never getting out of here,” said Sam.

Jon looked at his friend, “Not any time soon at least.”

“There’s going to be another big push tomorrow,” Sam said, “Or at least that is what Pyp seems to have gleaned from Colonel Mormont.”

“And if there is another big push, that means there are going to plenty of casualties to go around,” Jon sighed. He was so tired of patching boys up, only to send them back out again once they had recovered, “We should get some sleep, if we can sleep in this cold.”

“I have post-op duty,” said Sam, “I just came to grab a warmer hat,” Sam picked up a thick knitted hat, that was slightly to big for him and Jon could not help but smile.

“Gilly?” Jon had to ask.

“Yes,” Sam grinned, “Ever since I left to come here, she’s knitted me something every week, it’s like she’s armoring with knitted goods, soon I’ll be so layered that any stray bullets will be blocked by the sheer number of layered yarn on my person.”

Jon laughed, “She loves you and misses you is all.”

Sam nodded.

Jon had no one to miss him or send him knitted goods. Between the First Wildling War, and medical school, Jon had never had any time to cultivate any personally meaningful relationships, he had no siblings, and his parents had died many years ago. He was alone in the world, and at the rate he was going, would likely remain alone and meet an early grave. His life had nearly ended in the First Wildling War, when he had barely been seventeen years old, having lied about his age to join the army. Shaking his head at the boy he once was all those years ago, Jon followed Sam out into the compound even though he did not have post-op duty himself.

“I can manage Jon, you need rest,” Sam said, “You were up all night.”

“I’ve slept,” Jon said, and it was partially true. He had slept for maybe an hour right after spending the night in the post-op ward, trying to save a particularly difficult patient. He had succeeded and the worst was passed, but Jon found getting rest here in this frozen tundra to be difficult. Jon did not think he would ever be warm again.

The post op ward was quiet, and miraculously peaceful. Jon knew as soon as new patients were helicoptered and bussed in that there would be anything but peace here. They had few nurses this far north, as most nurses did not volunteer to come to this frozen wasteland, and so only the seasoned veteran nurses who had devoted their lives to military nursing were here. Brienne Tarth, a sturdy woman, who towered over most of the men here, was such a nurse. She had been with the army for years and was the type of no-nonsense nurse that Jon had always appreciated back in his civilian hospital days. He had been plucked fresh from his residency by the draft board and immediately sent North, and though they had been barely a year ago, it seemed so much longer. Brienne had been a godsend in his readjustment to the military life, this time as a doctor instead of a soldier.

“How’s our patient doing?” Jon asked Brienne, who was bent over the patient they had spent the previous night nursing.

“Stable, vitals are still not as strong as I would like though,” said Brienne tersely.

Jon knelt beside the young man and worked on his own analysis.

“Doctor Snow, you look as if you have not slept a wink,” Brienne scolded.

Jon looked up at the tall woman and smiled fondly, “I’ve slept enough.”

She snorted derisively.

Jon chuckled, “Maybe not enough for surgery, but enough for this.”

“There’s supposed to be a big push tomorrow, which means we are going to be flooded with casualties,” Brienne informed him.

“Aye, I heard,” Jon sighed and stood, “And we are still short two nurses…”

“Nurse Mordane tells me that two new nurses should be arriving this evening,” said Brienne.

“Oh?” Jon was surprised, it usually took high command far longer to see to their staffing needs.

“Volunteers at that,” Brienne huffed in disapproval. The field hospitals further south, tended to be staffed with nurses who had volunteered for the mission, while the MASH units, only a few miles from the front were not popular volunteer destinations. Volunteers were rarely prepared for the lifestyle and types of casualties expected at a MASH unit, which was why they tended to be staffed by regular army nurses like Brienne and Nurse Mordane.

“Volunteers won’t last long,” Nurse Talisa Maegyr chimed in from the bedside of her own patient.

“I suppose we should not jump to conclusions,” said Jon, trying to be fair, though he had his doubts as well. The last volunteer nurse high command had sent, had not been prepared for the broken, and mangled bodies of young men who were shipped to them straight from the front lines. She, however, had been a pediatric nurse in a general practitioner’s office in civilian life. While on the other hand, their nurse, Ellaria Sand, had volunteered to come here, and she had settled in just fine, and had now been here almost as long as the regular army nurses. Ellaria had been an E.R. nurse in Sunspear. Some were born to it and others were not, Jon supposed, and the same went for the doctors.

Jon heard the chopper, and he and Brienne exchanged looks, before they dashed out into the frigid air, to see the helicopter landing on the pad up the hill. The camp came to full attention as it always did when a chopper landed. Jon sprinted up the hill to assess the situation, along with a several of their orderlies, Pyp among them, and some of the other doctors. Reaching the pad, Jon thanked the old gods that there was only one casualty strapped to the stretcher. Out of the chopper, jumped Dr. Davos Seaworth, one of Jon’s tent mates who had spent the last few days on the front lines. They shook hands before and exchanged terse looks before turning their attention to the patient. The young boy was mumbling incoherently, and on his chest was a bloodied bandaged. 

“If we don’t get him into surgery as soon as possible, he’s not going to make it,” Davos said and started barking commands at the orderlies who were preparing to lift the patient and load him into the ambulance which would carry him down the hill.

“I’ll meet you down there and scrub up,” Jon offered.

“Snow, you were ordered at 0700 to stand down and get some rest!” Shouted the sharp tongue of Dr. Alliser Thorne, major, and second in command of the Castle Black, MASH unit.

“Davos needs assistance,” Jon retorted.

“You are not the only hot shot doctor here,” Thorne sneered at him, “Just because you went to a fancy medical school and spent your residency at Visenya Hill Hospital does not make you immune to fatigue.”

Jon knew he needed sleep, but to leave his friend, Davos, with only Thorne to assist him in surgery, nettled Jon. Thorne, however, had nettled Jon since he first set foot in this camp. Jon was a Snow… a northern bastard, and it seemed no matter how far technologies advanced, or how accessible education became, some prejudices died hard. Thorne did not like, nor trust those who were bastard born, and Westerosi government, throughout the entirety of recorded history, gave bastard’s names to hang around their necks like millstones, to remind them who they were and what their place was in the world. Snow… a bastard from the North, and Jon had had to learn to wear his name like armor, or it would always be used to hurt him. No one had gotten through Jon’s armor in years, and so Thorne’s insults rolled off of him like the snowflakes melting on his skin.

Davos and Jon looked at each other in silent understanding, and then Jon nodded to Thorne in concession. The group of orderlies, two doctors, and the few nurses who had come up the hill descended once again with the patient leaving Jon standing with their chopper pilot on the helicopter pad.

“The last time Thorne went to the front he refused to ride with me,” said Lt. Gendry Waters, their chopper pilot, and bastard born of the crown lands around King’s Landing.

“Thorne is intolerable,” Jon scowled.

“So is this whole bloody war,” said Gendry, throwing the cigarette he had in his mouth on the ground and stomping it out.

Jon could not agree more.

“I have gotta grab some grub before they call me up again,” said Gendry with a sigh.

The war was taking a toll on all of them, and they were tired. Jon was nearly asleep on his feet, and so he followed Gendry down the hill and toward his tent, shared with the other captains who lived in their little mobile hospital. Sloshing through the thick, half-frozen mud, Jon and Gendry parted ways at the mess tent, and Jon continued the few steps more to his own tent. Opening the flap, he saw Captain Oberyn Martell, M.D. still sound asleep on his own cot. Sighing, Jon sat down and took off his muddied boots and tucked himself into his sleeping bag and drifted into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The crunching of rock, ice, and mud underneath jeep tires woke Jon from his less than restful slumber. He groaned and looked around the tent. The sun was setting outside. Oberyn was gone, and Davos and Sam were no where to be seen. He wondered if Davos and Thorne were still in surgery. Somewhat more urgently and perhaps more selfishly, he wondered if there was any chow left in the mess tent, or if he had missed supper entirely. Rubbing his eyes, and stretching he stood from his cot and into his boots. The air had gotten colder. Jon wrapped one his blankets around his shoulders and opened the flap to their tent and stepped out into a gust of wind. Across the mud sodden path that served as a road, Jon saw the jeep that had disturbed his slumber. In the back seat of the jeep were two women in uniform, no doubt these were the two volunteer nurses heralded by Brienne that morning. Both were lovely women, delicate and young, and did not seem suited to the hell hole at which they had arrived. Jon knew they would not be prepared for what was in store for them here, but then no one ever was. One had hair the color of honey and a mischievous smile, and she laughed good naturedly when she stepped out of the jeep and into the thick mud. The other seemed even younger, and he could see bright red hair under her formal military cap. Her shoulders were squared, and she looked ready to fight the world. Jon noted, however, the almost imperceptible hint of vulnerability in her bright blue eyes as she shivered in the cold. Her features were quickly schooled, however, when she noticed him watching them from across the road. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and she tilted her chin up defiantly before following their driver to Commander Mormont’s office. Jon smiled and shook his head, before heading, still bundled in his blanket, to the mess tent.


	2. A Girl Like You, In a Place Like This (Sansa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been watching MASH again this week and got a little excited about this story, and decided to go ahead and post a little introduction to Sansa. I hope everyone enjoys!

“My grandmother thinks I’ve taken leave of my senses,” Laughed Nurse Margaery Tyrell, who sat beside Nurse Sansa Stark as their jeep puttered through the snow and the muck of the great northern road toward their Mobile Army Surgical Hospital post.

“My mother cried,” said Sansa softly, looking out over the desolate terrain. Sansa was of the North, winter was in her blood, but the barren emptiness of the north this near the Wall was almost haunting.

“That was my father,” Margaery sniggered.

Sansa smiled. Her father had not cried. Ned Stark had said very little, as he was a man of few words, but there was a distinct look of pride in his eyes, though unspoken, that Sansa carried with her in her heart. “My brother is North in the fighting,” Sansa explained, “Mother is afraid that she will lose both me and my brother.”

“All of my brothers have served,” Margaery said proudly, “My oldest brother Willas got hurt and shipped home.”

“And so, you decided to come?” asked Sansa.

“Something like that,” Margaery laughed, “Thought it would be good adventure. What about you? What brought you to the edge of the world?”

Sansa looked up at the mountain range, with the sun setting behind it. Why had she volunteered to leave her family and come so close to the front lines? Sansa had wanted to come and contrary to her mother’s belief, her decision had not been made on a whim. Their twenty-two-year-old daughter taking off to a mobile army hospital barely only a handful of miles from the front lines, was hardly what her parents had planned for her. Catelyn Stark had raised her a lady, determined for her to marry well, and raise family. While that dream had its own allure in Sansa’s youth, she had grown increasingly disillusioned with the expectations that society placed upon her, especially as the daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark.

“You’re from the North,” Margaery said simply.

“Yes,” Sansa chuckled.

“I know who you are, you know,” Margaery grinned at her.

“And who am I?” Sansa asked, shifting uncomfortably in the hard jeep seat, and pulling her coat tighter around her. She did not think it could be colder than Winterfell but apparently, she was wrong.

Margaery snorted, “Stark? Come on now, you are not going to pretend that you are not the eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark.”

Sansa cleared her throat and looked away.

“Don’t worry,” Margaery laughed her musical laugh, “I’ll not tell anyone, besides where we are going, I highly doubt there will be anyone acquainted with such high society.”

Sansa rolled her and snorted a derisive laugh, “I’m not high society.”

“I heard a rumor, that the eldest Stark daughter was engaged to be married to _the_ Joffrey Baratheon before she disappeared,” Margaery pressed.

“Not engaged, and not disappeared,” Sansa said, choosing not to elaborate. The gossip and rumors surrounding her fall from society never ceased to amaze her. When did going to college become known as disappearing from society?

“And then I heard you were being taken out by Harold Harding when you resurfaced,” Margaery chuckled.

Harold Harding… Sansa sighed.

“Not going to give me any more rumors to spread, are you?” Margaery grinned and patted her hand, “Wise woman.”

Sansa smiled.

Turning her attention away from Sansa, Margaery tapped their driver on the shoulder, “What’s your name soldier?”

The driver laughed, “Sergeant Ramsey Bolton, ma’am.”

While Margaery chatted up the driver, Sansa looked out at the desolate countryside. The Wall loomed closer and the air grew colder, and suddenly Sansa felt very small, and perhaps like she was drowning in the vast emptiness that stretched out before them. They would be at the camp soon.

* * *

The jeep tumbled into a clutter of tents and misshapen buildings, obviously made to be mobile, while the mud was so thick on the road it slowed their progress toward what Sansa’s presumed was the Commander’s office. Grinding to a halt, Sansa glanced around the place and took a fortifying breath. It was not much to look at. Margaery hopped out of the jeep and found her shoe immediately sinking into the mud. She laughed good naturedly. Sgt. Bolton took their bags and smirked at Margaery. Sansa surveyed their surroundings, and wondered at the eerie quiet, when she caught sight of a man, with a mop of dark, unruly curls atop his head, and bundled in a blanket, leering at them from across the road. Turning up her nose, Sansa ignored the blatantly staring and made sure he knew she was ignoring him, before turning to follow Bolton into the Commander's office.

The office was threadbare, and a squirrely young man with a headset on his head, ate a sandwich over a pile of reports.

“On your feet, Payne!” shouted Bolton with a snigger, startling the young soldier who was obviously the company clerk, “These are the new nurses, delivered as promised, here to see the Commander.”

“N-nurses?” The soldier Bolton had called Payne, stuttered.

“Of course, nurses, they’re women, aren’t they?” Bolton snarled, “Let the commander know they’re here!”

Payne scurried off and through a door, and Bolton tipped his hat to them.

“This is where I leave you ladies, it was a pleasure chauffeuring you today, and do I hope you will consider me when next you need cab service,” Bolton bowed playfully, and Margaery and Sansa smiled.

“Thank you, Sergeant, I assume we will see you around?” Margaery asked.

Bolton eyed Sansa, before looking at Margaery, “You won’t be able to miss me,” he said and Margaery chuckled, “I will take your bags to the nurses’ tent.”

“How very gallant of you, sir,” said Margaery.

“Always,” said Bolton and disappeared out the door into the frigid cold.

Payne appeared a moment later and seemed to blush to his very hairline at having been left alone with them. Sansa smiled.

“The Commander will see you now,” said Payne and sat back down at his desk.

Squaring their shoulders, and looking at each other, they strode through the swinging doors and into the Commander’s office.

At the large desk, worn from use, sat a burly older man with a balding head and hard lines around his eyes. His face was bristly, and his eyes were stern.

“Seems they’re sending them younger and younger these days,” the old man grumbled as he glanced at them and then down at their paperwork, “I’m Commander Mormont. Margaery Tyrell?” said Mormont without looking up.

“Here, sir,” said Margaery.

“Sansa Stark?” He did look up then.

“Yes, sir,” said Sansa, and their eyes met. He seemed to size her up and she did not know what to make of that and so she straightened her spine. He nodded and then returned his eyes to their paperwork.

“Seems you girls volunteered to come here,” Mormont said, almost irritably as he stood up.

“Yes, sir,” said Margaery with a perky smile.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Mormont growled, “Life here is not an adventure, you won’t find fulfillment and you won’t find a husband, we work hard with very little play,” He glared at them and continued, “We’re grateful to have the hands, but any fanciful notions of adventure and romance should be left right here.”

“Yes, sir,” the two women said in unison.

“Now, I’m here to protect you, to help you be the nurses that those very prestigious credentials…” he eyed Sansa once more, “…say that you are… But I’m not here to coddle you. If you can’t hack it here there is no shame in it, Castle Black has done in some very fine nurses, and doctors too, not everyone is cut out to be here.”

“Castle Black, sir?” asked Margaery, since Sansa seemed unable to find her tongue.

“It’s what the men affectionately call this hell hole,” Mormont responded, “Now, Corporal Podrick Payne out there will show you to your tent, and in the morning you will report to Nurse Mordane for your rotations.”

“Thank you, sir,” Said Margaery.

“That’ll be all for now,” said Mormont returning to his work. The two women turned to leave, “Stark stay for a moment.”

Sansa exchanged a look with Margaery, but stayed behind, the office quiet until Margaery was gone. Commander Mormont sighed and looked up at Sansa.

“Your father is a good man,” said Mormont, and Sansa frowned. She loved her father, truly, but the last thing she wanted to be known for here was being Ned Stark’s daughter.

“Yes, sir, he is,” Sansa said softly.

“You’ll be getting no special treatment for being his daughter,” Mormont warned.

“I wouldn’t want it, sir,” Sansa snapped indignantly, and Mormont chuckled with an approving smile.

“Good.”

“I’d rather it not be… um… a known thing,” Sansa said warily.

“No one will hear it from me,” Mormont sighed, “But gossip travels fast here, so I’d keep the information to yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Welcome aboard, Nurse Stark,” Mormont reached out to shake her hand and with a half-smile she shook it, “May the gods help us all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The staff of Castle Black MASH, meet the new nurses (undecided POV)


End file.
